I really believed that my relationship with God AND the relationship that my children had with God were tied up in my ability to make them love God. There was this weight, this huge fear of eternal damnation for me and for them, that was driving me to make my children sit still and listen.

There was also the weight that if my children didn’t obey me, then they would never obey God. Whatever had to be done, I had to break their spirit so that they would only have an obedient heart for God and not the world.

My parents told us that if we told the truth, social workers would take us away and we would never see our family again and end up in homes where we weren't loved.

I’m never going to forget the first time that friend got beaten while I was playing at his house. I was about ten years old. I immediately learned that this could happen to any one of us. We would be used as an example–just like that boy was–to keep everyone else in line.

Resistance seemed futile. God was a jealous God who would break my spirit and strip me of everything in order to gain my full submission. He was a sadistic, abusive being.